


Celebration and Peace

by miss_coverly



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Communication, Cuddling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance, Supportive Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 06:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9058813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_coverly/pseuds/miss_coverly
Summary: "You never did get a chance to kiss my gold medal..." Set after episode twelve. In which Viktor tries to celebrate with his super cute fiancé - but first, they'll have to work through an insecurity or two. And don't even get them started on all of those almost-kisses during the Grand Prix Final... 
Oneshot with some fluffy drama. Viktuuri.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, dear readers! Here's a lil' YOI oneshot - it started out as very fluffy, and then it got a little ~dramatic~ and I'm honestly not sure where it came from? But after that absolutely magical finale, I hope it gives y'all some major feels! Consider it my non-Christmas themed Christmas present to this wonderful fandom. ^_^
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri On Ice.
> 
> Enjoy!

Viktor had been _trying_ to cuddle with Yuuri.

That was what all good coaches did after a competition, he figured. Well, not Yakov, perhaps - but all the others probably did. He was sure of it. Not to mention, it was simply a given when a coach's magnificent, _world-record breaking_ , light-of-his-life student (not to mention fiancé) had medalled at the Grand Prix Final. This was a night for celebration!

Viktor had been sure of this fact as he'd sprung on top of Yuuri that night. And yes, he'd accomplished this feat by practically vaulting from the hotel room door; up and over their two pushed-together beds; and directly to the farthest side of the bed, where a very unassuming Yuuri currently lay.

This was quite an impressive sight to behold. Viktor knew this, of course. That's why he'd done it. However, Yuuri's only reaction was a small _oomph_ as the bed dipped a few inches at the new weight, then bounced back into place.

Yuuri readjusted his glasses, which had now slid very crookedly down his nose. Once he could see again, he turned away from the window. Viktor's bright eyes filled his line of vision - something for which he could not find a single complaint.

"When you said, 'I'm putting on my pajamas, I'll be back in two seconds,' you _really_ weren't exaggerating," said Yuuri, poking fun at Viktor with his twinkling eyes alone.

"It's all for training, you know," purred Viktor, since it clearly was not. "If I'm going to be back in shape for Russian Nationals, I'll have to be creative with keeping things athletic. Practical!" He mock-pouted. " _Even_ at home. Who knew skating would be so much _work_?"

Viktor was in no mood to waste a lot of time on words, though; almost as quickly as he'd jumped onto the bed, he fell into a warm, content silence. He wrapped an arm around Yuuri's shoulder and laced the other through his arms, pulling at the hem of his gray cotton shirt in the process. Yuuri's hand gently scurried into Viktor's, and their fingers slipped into place together, like the gears of some antique clock.

However, Viktor was distracted from his otherwise perfect cuddling... by none other than Yuuri himself, who did not seem so warm and content. With his other hand, he'd begun fidgeting with the silver medal draped around his neck. He picked and almost scraped at its edges, though this had little effect on the surface's luminous glow.

Viktor attempted to curl himself even further around his fiancé. "Is something wrong, Yuuri?"

"It's nothing," Yuuri brushed off.

"Are you sure?" Viktor's bare knees brushed against Yuuri's pajama pants, with an almost incessant contact.

Yuuri said nothing for a moment. As was so often the case, his face took on that contemplative, mulling look. Viktor's heart skipped a beat as he recognized that sparkle ignite in Yuuri's searching eyes. It was like some well-hidden whirlpool, one that Viktor liked to think he _alone_ understood - at least a little bit.

"I'm glad you're coming back to the ice," Yuuri settled on eventually, his voice still unsure. "But now that we'll be competitors... well, for me, there'll be a lot more where these came from." He held up the silver medal again, then dejectedly let it fall back onto his chest - just like any other emotional weight.

Viktor frowned. "You shouldn't sell yourself short like that," he challenged, but not unkindly. "After all, you're the world-record holder now, not me." He softly poked Yuuri in the side, hoping to knock down a wall.

"I know that." Yuuri's brow furrowed; he knew that he wasn't quite getting his point across. The speed of his heartbeat seemed to skyrocket. Walls were closing in and pounding against his head. "But that was with you as my coach. Without you... well, I'm not sure if I can do it."

"Yuuri." Viktor said it softly, trying to calm him down. "Just because I won't be serving as your primary coach, that doesn't mean I won't be by your side every step of the way." He smiled more firmly, rubbing in circles with his thumb on Yuuri's hand. "Everything you need to win is right there. _Inside you_. I help you to remember it sometimes, but that's _you_ on the ice. Don't you see it?" And then he simply said it again. "Yuuri..."

It could've been the beginning of a sentence, but Viktor let the word exist on its own; let it settle and leave a distinct print in the air; let dust collect on it as he sat up a bit. And he silently prayed that Yuuri would hear that word - and how much _he_ needed Yuuri to just hear him. To trust Viktor enough to let him in, like no one else had before.

He ran a finger along Yuuri's quivering jawline, willing his chin to tilt up so he could look him right in the eye.

When their eyes met, Yuuri felt his eyelids somehow become less heavy. The pounding behind his forehead ebbed - and that silver medal seemed to weigh a little bit less on his chest, too. Viktor's eyes were coursing with brilliant, warm light, electrifying the air while calming the storm inside their hotel room. The light seemed to poke right at Yuuri's heart, just like a gentle poke in the side - making Yuuri's own light a little bit brighter in the process.

Yuuri couldn't have told you how many times a day Viktor had this effect on him - and yet, each time it left him completely enchanted. For just a few moments, he was at peace.

"Thank you," said Yuuri. His voice shook, carrying the meaning of his words. "For everything. Up to now."

Viktor's smile was wide as he chuckled. "You know, Yuuri," he said, cradling Yuuri's face in his hand, "right now, I don't think that I care one bit what color your medal is."

Yuuri's brow furrowed just a bit. Most people wouldn't have been able to notice. So, naturally, Viktor _did_ notice. His eyebrows knitted in concern.

Yuuri shied away from Viktor's gaze, his shoulders tensing. "Oh, you'll think I'm silly."

" _That's_ no reason to not say something." And coming from Viktor, this was so purely earnest that it reassured Yuuri a bit.

He laughed, trying his best to cover up his nerves - which, in the mean time, were betrayed by the blush creeping up his neck.

"I was sort of disappointed today. Not because I came in second - I mean, after last year, I really was thrilled to be on the podium." He paused, eyes fixated on their intertwined hands. His words came out in a soft but urgent rush. "You never _did_ get a chance to kiss my gold medal... _or_ me."

Eventually, Yuuri worked up the nerve to look back up at Viktor. The expression he was met with was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. It was wide-eyed and pleased - and so _pink_. Yuuri hardly _ever_ saw Viktor looking like that; it made Yuuri's own face turn an ecstatic shade of crimson. They simply looked at each other then, and they let their flushed, beaming faces be seen by the other without any interference. And nothing else could've been as intimate as that.

After a moment that was not _quite_ long enough for Yuuri's tastes, Viktor seemed to regain control of his demeanor once more. He was back to his usual self, smiling with lidded eyes. As he leaned closer, his breath gave rise to goosebumps on Yuuri's neck.

"You know, Yuuri," he whispered, "sometimes I wonder if you don't need to get your glasses checked. Because you don't always see things for what they are." And then he pressed his lips to Yuuri's. The kiss was soft and sweet - it was happy simply to be, even as rain gently pattered on the roof, and raindrops chased each other in trails, making intricate fog patterns on the window.

Yuuri abruptly broke away from the kiss, making his fiancé frown. He slipped his glasses off of his face without another word, then held them up to the light for proper examining. The suspense of watching him drove Viktor half-mad in about fifteen seconds.

Yuuri smirked suddenly. "No, my glasses are just fine," he said, setting them down on the side table. "But sometimes, I like to make you work a little bit, too." And he kissed Viktor right back, a kiss that was now smothered with Viktor's surprised, gleeful laughter - and filled with some peace for both of them.

This was a night for celebration, after all.

**The End**


End file.
